


field trip

by Medie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh god," Rodney pushes upright. "Every square centimeter of my body <i>aches</i> and you want to have sex!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	field trip

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)'s [Hugs, Cuddles, and Kisses](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/302607.html) Drabble-A-Thon.

*

"God, I hurt," Rodney groans, throwing himself down onto his bed and burying his face against his arms. "You are a cruel, sadistic, and completely soulless man," he proclaims, wincing as his throat protests. "My _hair_ hurts."

"Baby," John drops his pack down and sits on an overturned crate. Rodney can _hear_ the smirk, idly contemplates the inevitable result of introducing toothpicks to his fingernails. It used to be murder but John keeps pointing out that killing him means less sex and Rodney likes sex so he's settled on cruel and unusual punishment instead. It's actually hotter. "Big baby. You need the exercise."

"I spend an inordinate amount of my time in life endangering _ peril_ that involves being menaced by refugees from an 80's rock band!" Rodney snaps back, peering out at his muddied lover. "That's exercise enough."

John leers. He needs to shave but it looks good on him. So does the leer. "Lemme guess, you'd prefer another kind of exercise?"

"Oh god," Rodney pushes upright. "Every square centimeter of my body _aches_ and you want to have sex!"

His outrage is met by a shrug and the honest response, "Yes."

"Letch," Rodney falls forward. "Go proposition Ronon." There's silence and then hands slide down his sweat-soaked back. "Johnnnn..."

"Shut up," John mutters, straddling him. "I'm trying to be comforting here, it's a new experience for me."

"Funny, with your habit of ending up arm in arm with the fairer sex I would've thought you got a lot of practice." Rodney stifles the sigh of relaxation as John's hands work beneath his t-shirt and dig into the flesh, working on the sore muscles. He is not going to admit that John's blatantly obvious seduction is working in any way, shape, or form. He is _not_.

John hits a particularly sore spot and Rodney feels the groan clear down to his toes.

Scowling, he turns his head. "Don't even _think_ of grinning at me."

When John Sheppard was a little boy, Rodney's quite sure he spent a great deal of time smiling innocently at any number of authority figures and assuring them that in no way was he responsible for the shattered window/slightly singed cat/flattened tire/little old lady ass up in the flower bed. Rodney's quite sure of this because the innocent look he gets back?

Lots of practice.

"Bullshit," he grouses, turning back to stare at the tent wall. "I know what you're thinking and I am not that easy."

"Yes you are, I am going to rub your back, you are going to enjoy it, get a rather impressive hard-on which no one will because they think you need the Hubble telescope to even see your dick," Rodney protests but, as usual, John doesn't listen, "and then I'm going to do my best to break this incredibly pathetic excuse for a cot with some very athletic sex. Even if I do all of this right? It will still probably be the worst athletic sex of our lives because I'm damn tired."

Rodney smirks into his pillow. "But you're still willing to try?"

"I'm an unflagging optimist," John digs into that spot again and Rodney might just be whimpering. "Besides, less of a pain in the ass when you've had sex. The way you were hollering at the new guys this morning, they're probably one more bitch fit away from snapping and murdering us in our sleep. You have any idea how grouchy Elizabeth will be if she has to try and replace me?"

Rodney snorts. "She'll just call Mitchell. Our inscrutable aliens are hotter and our flying city? No way he says no."

"You know, destroying a man's confidence is not the best way to ensure orgasms," John leans over, kissing his ear. "Play nice, Rodney." Rodney shivers when his breath whispers over his skin.

"Well," he manages to say, squirming, "if it helps the team -- "

"You're a saint." John comments, resuming his massage, his fingers straying down to the waistband of Rodney's pants. "A credit to the Canadian population."

Rodney nods. "Yes, yes, yes, Trudeau wishes he could be me. You promised me orgasms and don't think I missed your usage of the plural."

John's head hits dead center in his back. "Shut up, Rodney," he mutters into Rodney's shirt, a warmth that Rodney can feel through the fabric.

It's nice and he smiles. "Okay."


End file.
